37. Bleak Midwinter

1/12/09

It's December.

I'm up the tower. I will write here everyday. Here I don't have to act; I can think.

And I can watch.

We were right about the crane. I've been watching it. Working with the lorries to lead people away.

And it's December.
I should be buying presents, fighting the crowds.
Can Christmas happen when you're on your own?

B. and I need to talk about that.

Trial 1, Area 3, Subject B: Observation Note 1

Due to an unobserved change in the subject's habits, the team were unable to monitor the subject's own account for a period of 2 months.

Analysis of the subject's account for this period shows only that the on-going observation of behaviour gave an acccurate picture of actions. It was considered that those not observed were not of detriment to the project.

However, the team have been unaware of some emotional and medical issues which could be key to the successful continuation of this project.

The team will increase surveillance on vital signs and will alert the medical team should an intervention prove necessary.

This subject has been referred to the management team as a priority match.

36. Looking Out

30/11/08

We've learned something. I don't know how it changes things; if it changes things.

This was the second time we'd entered the church. This time it did feel spiritual, perhaps because we knew we were at turning point, perhaps because of the steadfast smell of oak and stone, or the way shafts of light reached in through the windows and lit up scenes of disciples and apostles looking upwards for salvation. I whispered prayers in my head, while B. clattered the ladder, sending motes of dust to dance in the light.

The hatch was reluctant to let us through, but B. forced it, disturbing jackdaws into flight out over the churchyard. We climbed up into the belfry. It seemed that the birds had claimed the bells as soon as they'd been positioned, surrounding them with their own detritus, in spite of the power and majesty.

Above us, another ceiling and another hatch. B. hauled the ladders up after us and started work on the rusted bolts that secured our way. And then we were through.

We looked out over trees, roofs and fields, the cold air and brightness making us blink and draw breath. The tower wasn't high enough to show us everything - nearby buildings hid their neighbours, but we still enjoyed that feeling of being all-seeing, and for then (for now), we were lords of all we surveyed. That is, all that was within the wall.

From our vantage point we could see most of the wall, wrapping itself around our enclosure like a serpent. At points where the wall ran close to houses, we could just make out its top. And beyond it?

The wall itself obscured the area directly behind. An area which we could now see had been made into a no man's land between our wall and a second, which ran parallel to it. Away from the walls, things looked much as they always had. There was no traffic on the road which had once brought cars, lorries, buses and their noise through our village. On the hillside to the South, where I had often cycled, enjoying the quiet wood-edged lane, we could make out unnatural colours, a crane? Maybe construction traffic? They must be widening the road - making a bypass, steering travellers away from us.

So the world goes on. But how do we rejoin it?

35. Take a Deep Breath and...

30/11/08

A beautiful crisp, clear Sunday. The field we look onto is white with frost. It's silent.

It seems the right day to look out onto the world.

To count to three and open our eyes.

34. Clip Boarding

27/11/08

I think it's been a month now. We'll be in December soon. Outside the nation will be going Christmas mad too early - shopping, decorations. I suppose I'm glad to be out of that part. Just as long as we're out in time for Christmas Day itself, I'll be happy.

We've been busy this week. No more having fun. I haven't been writing because, well, there's not much to write about. But I need to keep in the habit.

Of course we've been looking after the animals. They're doing really well. I'm a bit worried they might need more fresh stuff than I'm able to give them by hauling up weeds. I haven't got the confidence to take them out to grass yet. Shouldn't be much longer before I can put them back in more capable hands though, thank goodness.

B. agreed, reluctantly, that we should leave the houses alone for a while and focus on gardens, sheds and garages. We're working our way through one road at a time. I can't even begin to estimate how long it will take. We still haven't even finished the main street yet, never mind all the closes, crescents, avenues and courts! Still, the longer it takes, the less people we'll have offended by the time we get out.
I'm drawing up a register - house by house, street by street. While B. starts the search of the garage (if there is one) I record what's in the garden; Rhubarb patches, fruit bushes, apple trees, I've even found an asparagus bed. Of course most of them won't be useful to us till the summer, so it's something of a pointless exercise, but I feel better knowing I'm preparing for the worst. Every so often I come across a plot with a few late vegetables hanging on - we've been having winter stews most nights since we started, fortified with a tin of beans from the Spar. It's great to have fresh vegetables again.

We decided that we'd keep this search up till B. comes across something we can transmit with. Also high on the list to look out for are fuels. When the power goes off, we need to be ready, so we're listing coal, wood, batteries and hoping to find generators or solar panels. So far, no luck. We have found ladders though - one to every 3 garages. We can go up the church tower now. We could have gone up on Saturday. We just need to pick the right time.

33. Cold Water

22/11/08

I woke up with a start this morning, out of one of those dreams it takes you a while to shake, anxiety tugging at you. My mind full of guilt, regret - for what we had and had not done yesterday and fear for what may follow.

Yesterday we plundered another house. One protected by high walls, electric gates and security cameras. One we'd never, in normal life, have been able to enter. As with the houses B. had already visited, the gates were open and the door unlocked. That made me feel better about it - perhaps there had been an agreement to leave the houses open in case someone was left behind, in case someone needed to help themselves. I still whispered as we went in, looked around nervously for signs of life, hanging back behind B.

It was a gorgeous house, built for entertaining, a huge staircase sweeping into the entrance hall. Beautiful antique furniture. It had the feel of a place that had 'been in the family for years'. I walked around, awestruck. For now this place was part of our estate.

A shout from B. - I followed the call and found him racking up a pool table. I scooted back to the kitchen and came back with kettle chips and beer. In other words, we spent the day mucking about with someone else's stuff. And yes, it was fun and it's important to keep your spirits up. But we're just kidding ourselves here. We are in a total mess and we need to get out of it. We haven't done any of the things we said we would, we haven't even checked on the animals. How can we be so reckless? Do we actually want to keep living like this? Do we seriously think it's going to stay this easy? That the food won't run out? That we won't get ill? That the world is going to let us keep on taking without giving? That we aren't sometime very soon going to find ourselves without heat or power or water? And then what do we do? And if we think we're going to get rescued any moment, what are we doing trampling over other people's privacy?

No. Either we think we're getting out of here, in which case we use only what we need to make that happen. Or we accept that maybe we're not in which case...

I've got to talk to B.

And now the radio comes on. And it doesn't give me its usual comfort.

Why do they have to mess around with perfectly good programs?